The end arrives without fanfare—no one
scatters ritual words to take back fate.
The dice are rolling, cards drawn—still no one
moves to rearrange the portents—too late
they fail to cohere, fail to integrate
the glimmer in the void with its descent,
the form with its reflected accident.
Maps destroy the future, erase the past
with tangled nows that keel, reorient–
in alloyed flames the dark remains, uncast.
They were born and taken back, surrounded
by places they could never occupy–
left far behind, callously abandoned,
imprisoned in locations without time–
endless words and rules warped to justify
exclusion—hope withholding tomorrow,
wheels turning over in endless sorrow,
a constant shifting into reversal–
running counterclockwise back to zero–
a journey of relentless rehearsal.
For dVerse open link night, hosted by Linda, two somewhat related dizain poems. Dizain is the poetic form for July, introduced to us by Rosemary. I found it a challenge, and have been worrying these words all week.
The sky is a mist of blue ghosts rising from the sea. The sky is a blanket of sparkling light that appears suddenly as if conjured by the fading horizon. The sky is a layered curtain of shadow clouds that both disguise and reveal.
I sit without time, listening, watching. My body retreats from itself, my thoughts lose their words. I am lost, dispersed, nameless.
I become like the wind, seeking its reflection. I become like waves repeating their primal dance. I become like sand searching for the spaces between.
I float, a grain inside my eye.
I dreamt I was the moon, a sudden seizure of oceans traveling the spirals of shells. I dreamt I was a relic from the sea, worn away into a celebration of return. I became my ancestors, unburied and uncontained, released into the sanctuary of the cosmic coil.
Sarah at dVerse has given us the prosery prompt “I dreamt I was the moon”, from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon”. I was lucky to be in North Carolina at the beach last week, where the moon was spectacular. 144 words and a few of my photos can’t even begin to capture the magic.
I wanted to do a contemporary ghazal, but I was having a lot of trouble with it. Couplets, rhythm, and associational words seem to be the “rules”.
The Oracle helped me organize some zephyrous thoughts. I also used Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, as inspiration.
Let secrets dance with air
surrounded by tree breath
Must time summon angels
to remember sacred clouds?
Embrace each flying star
lingering on dazzled breezes
Listen for the magic voices
that haunt the windows in the sky
Open all your portals–
wake up every forgotten ghost
dVerse is featuring the ghazal form this month. You can read lots of them here.
Also linked to Open Link Night.
The day was grey, dying, losing its grip. Silhouettes of broken promises cut the distance into unrelated pieces. The landscape was confined, restless, waiting on the edge of night.
She was unoccupied, absorbed in her solitude, when far away an interrupted cry broke the spell she had unconsciously cast. The stitches fell into the long gone as she tried to gather in the few remaining threads of meaning. Crow, she said, Crow. The iridescent blackness echoed and magnified the emptiness of her voice. She was nothing now, surrounded by the remains of what had almost been.
Wings sounded, pouring into her mind from everywhere. What had been hidden now emerged. What had been lifeless grew roots and branches and leaves. The air glittered with possibility. The intangible multiplied and divided. The spiral awakened and uncoiled.
She was no longer alone.
Bjorn at dVerse introduced a new form, prosery, which merges a line from a poem (in this case “when far away an interrupted cry” from a poem by Robert Frost) into flash fiction of 44-144 words. I am not a fiction writer and I’m not sure this is actually fiction. But I enjoyed writing it. I was inspired by finding one of my collage crows while (still) searching for the birdlings. They’re here somewhere.